


Phanetics

by A_mess_and_a_half



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anyways, But Like Not Actually, Classism, Dan is a linguist, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Historical, Homophobia, I am personally offended that that's not an official Tag, I don't know how much money is a lot of money, I looked it up on wikihow and it was not helpful, M/M, My Fair Lady - Freeform, Slow Burn, also yes the title is a pun on phonetics, and they're on very even footing, based off my fair lady, because it's 1841, because it's really really important to the story, but I don't know how to write accents especially not northern ones, but the student is 4 years older than the teacher, cause it's 1841, cause that's the kind of person I am I guess, is 50 pounds a lot back then?, ish, it is in this story, it's set in 1840, mainly fluff though I think, northern phil, okay fair warning I wrote out all the accents as how I think they would sound, originally the title was My Phair Lady so we have improved quite a lot, technicaly I guess this would be student/teacher relationship, we may never know, why did I capitalize tag?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-10-17 05:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_mess_and_a_half/pseuds/A_mess_and_a_half
Summary: Phil Lester is at the end of his rope, selling flowers on the streets of London in 1841. He seems all out of luck, unable to get a proper job because of his accent, and sending what meagre earnings he's getting to his ailing mother back north. That is until he runs into a linguist by the name of Daniel Howell, who offers to teach him how to speak like a proper gentleman. Hopefully this works out for the both of themBased off of My Fair Lady but Dan isn't a classist dick and also there's some added homophobia sprinkled in there because Dan and Phil fall in love in the 1840's.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance for the accents. I hope you enjoy.

Phil hated London. He had never been before, so one might call him judgmental but he just hated it. He knew some people from back north who had come from London, and they told horror stories. Dirty streets overcrowded with even more dirty people trying desperately to make a living. And the pompous upper class, stepping over them as though they were nothing more than rats.

 

And as though that wasn’t bad enough London also happened to be the place where Phil was 99% sure is father had run off too. Granted that probably wasn’t the city’s fault but Phil supposed he could be a bit petty.

 

So why then was Phil, who hated it with such a passion, moving to London? Well unfortunately for him, London was just bigger. It had more opportunities. And considering that his dreams of owning a flower shop were going nowhere back home, he needed some opportunities. His mother’s health was failing and since his brother was already married and settled down, Phil was the one who had to go out and get money for treatment.

 

He had come to the city with just enough to buy himself a small shop. And he had been confident he could get on his feet fast enough to start earning more fairly quickly. But no matter where he looked he was turned away.

 

After a week of this Phil had spent enough of his money on food and temporary shelter that there was hardly a point in searching anymore. At some point he made friends with a young flower lady. She offered to sell him a peony, and he offered her a meal. And so they got to talking. By the end of the night the woman –Dorothy, he learned- had talked him into selling flowers on the street.

 

It got odd looks sometimes, being the only boy amongst the women selling flowers. But at some point he either stopped noticing or stopped caring. It was taxing, and hardly rewarding work. Relying on the meager sympathy of those wealthier and more fortunate than him, only to send what little he did earn back to his mother.

 

He asked Dorothy once, late one night when they were huddled together by a small fire, why he hadn’t been able to get a shop, back when he had the money.

 

"I’s yah accent. Dem uperclass folk don’ like folks who don’ speak deir language. I’s why no one wants ta buy flowrs from us. Dey fink we’re dumb animals.”

 

 So by two months into his stay in London, Phil had developed a healthy distaste for the upper class. Coincidently, it was around that same time when Phil’s life changed completely.

 

It was a chilly afternoon. The seasons were changing and it was to be Phil’s first winter on the streets of London. Sales weren’t going so well that day, and he had nothing to show for his hours of work. People bustled past; even those who might normally take pity were blown along by the cold. 

 

It was dusk by the time Phil all but gave up for the day. He huddled down by the fire alongside a couple of his mates, keeping his flower basket close at hand in case he spotted a particularly friendly face.

 

“Wat I wouldn’ give fer a nice warm fireplace,” lamented Phil, pulling his meager jacket around his shoulders.

 

“Oh stop whinin’. You gots a fireplace right ‘ere,” scolded one of the others, a gruff man with a scraggly beard and striking grey eyes.

 

“Nah I mean like, an actual fireplace. Like in a co’age er a house. An’ a sof bed wif warm blankets an food on the table,” Phil smiled at the thought. 

“An maybe a flower shop. A proper one tah call me own. Wouldn’ it be lovely?” The grey-eyed man just grunted at Phil, seeming to decide it wasn’t worth the trouble arguing with him.

  
“Ey, lookit dat!” The man sitting next to Phil drew their attention to a small crowd that had gathered, chattering and yelling excitedly.

 

“Ya dink i’s dat linguist bloke again?” The grey-eyed man asked. The others muttered amongst themselves, seemingly excited by this prospect.

 

“What linguist?” Phil asked, having never heard of someone of that nature in this part of town.

 

“’E’s a scholar. E’ll come down ‘ere sometimes. Not tah buy flowers mind you but he do pay us,” Dorothy explained, “He jus sits by sometimes, takin’ down notes in his li’l journal. Says he likes listenin’ to us talk, cause i’s diffrent. I don’ really get it but ‘e’s nice enough. Gives us more den our daily wages jus for an hour o’ chattin’.”

 

Phil found that a bit hard to believe, seeing how stiff and uncaring the rich men he’d met behaved so far.

 

The crowd cleared a little, making a path for whomever they were chattering at. A young man walked out of the group, laughing and talking to whoever happened to catch his attention.

 

“I’d have to guess the south of Scotland. Lets see, perhaps Plockton? You’re very good at masking your accent though my dear. I might not have guessed were it not for the way you extend your “ee”s.

 

The crowd was migrating closer now, following the tall man, asking him to guess their nationalities.

 

“Really I must be going, I have important business to be tending to, if you would excuse me” The man was walking backwards, trying to placate the crowd. As he scrambled to get away, the linguist tripped, nearly falling over. He managed to save himself. Phil’s flower basket was not so lucky.

 

“Ya clumsy oaf!” Phil shouted kneeling on the ground to try to salvage his violets, “Ya’ve cos me a days worf o’ earnings.”

 

Quite frankly Phil was expecting to be kicked at that point. Calling someone an oaf was hardly good customer service.

  
“Oh damn, I’m so sorry. I can barely stay on my feet walking forwards. I should have known better than to walk backwards,” Now that was something Phil was not expecting. “Here, are your flowers salvageable?” The man knelt down next to Phil, helping him collect the scattered violets.

 

“Um, tey might be. Some o’ ‘em a leas but fer t’ mos part I don’ fink so” Phil stumbled over his answer, still not getting why the curly man was being nice to him.

 

The man froze, staring at him for a moment with a look that Phil couldn’t quite comprehend. “Yes. Yes I’m sorry. I’ll pay for them.”

 

“All o em?” Phil swore his voice rose three octaves in his excitement. An entire basketful of violets might very well buy him a few hearty meals.

 

“Yes, that was the plan,” curly man replied, a laughing tone in his voice, “about how much would that be? Fifty pounds?

 

Phil was beginning to think that perhaps this stranger was trying to give him a heart attack. Fifty pounds? That was-

 

“That’s simply unreasonable Mr. Howell.” And all of a sudden Phil became acutely aware of the crowd that had gathered around the two of them. As did Mr. Howell, if his sudden straightened posture was anything to go by.

 

“Well I suppose you’re right Mr. Howard,” The man who had spoken-Mr. Howard apparently- smiled at Howell’s reply. Phil deflated, feeling as though the other shoe had dropped.

 

“Why, not only have I knocked over this poor man’s basket, but I’ve also interrupted what I can only assume was a delightful afternoon. Therefor I do agree that I was being a bit cheap. Perhaps sixty is more reasonable?” Mr. Howard stammered in protest but Howell cut him off “And in fact, as it would seem that we are all continuing to invade upon Mr…” Howell glanced down at Phil, who was sitting next to his overturned basket in shock. He startled at Howell’s inquisitive glance, was he supposed to give his name?

 

“Uh, Phil.” No wait that was his first name. Howell smiled, turning back to Mr. Howard before Phil could fix his mistake.

 

“Yes of course. We’re invading Mr. Phil’s night and I fear that if we continue, each of us will be morally obligated to pay him for his troubles.” Within moments, the crowd had dispersed. Howell turned back to Phil, winking down at him. Phil felt the blood rush to his face, which only seemed to make the man smile wider.

 

“I do sincerely apologize Mr. Philip. I did mean it when I said I would pay you,” Mr. Howell stuck out his hand and Phil shook it as well as he could from down on the ground. Howell stared at him in confusion before letting out a bark of laughter. Phil stared in confusion as the man tried to stifle his giggles. “I mean, I was trying to help you up but that works too I suppose.”

 

Phil swore if he got any redder he might explode. He heard some chuckles from behind him, where his friends were watching with what he assumed was amused confusion. _Pull yourself together Philip, what is wrong with you right now?_

“Um, is t’offer still open or are ya jus goinna to leave me on t’ floor?” Phil tried for humor. He was good at humor. Maybe.

 

Luckily, Mr. Howell seemed at least somewhat endeared by Phil’s attempt at conversation. “I suppose I can find a shred of kindness left in my cold dead heart for you Mr. Phil.” A shred? From what Phil could tell so far, Mr. Howell’s allegedly cold dead heart wasn’t lacking for kindness.

 

“Ya do realize tat Phil is my firs name righ?” Phil said, taking Howell’s once again outstretched hand. It was surprisingly warm, contrasting Phil’s own chilly hands. He had half a mind to continue holding it but he thought that might be strange to hold the hand of a man he had just met.

 

“Shh. I’m trying to be fun and quirky,” Phil found himself grinning at this ridiculous man in front of him.

 

“Well I tink that we know each ova well enough a tis point ya can jus call me Phil.”

 

“Well in that case you can call me Dan. Or Daniel. Or Danny. No actually not that last one, I hate that. You know what Dan is fine forget I said anything after that.” Apparently whatever calm confident thing Dan had going on while talking to the crowd had gone away. Phil wasn’t complaining.

 

“Alrigh ten Dan, I’m sure ya chilly. ’m sorry for keepin ya away from wherever you was headed.” As much as Phil was enjoying himself he couldn’t imagine that Dan would rather be spending his night here than at home. He probably had a family waiting up for him. Maybe a wife, Phil didn’t know.

 

“Oh nonsense Phil, I assure you I’m quite enjoying our chat. Though I have to ask, your accent, it’s northern correct?” Phil tensed, mainly out of habit. People bringing up his accent historically didn’t end well.

 

“Yeh tat’s right. Why?” Phil didn’t mean to sound defensive, and Dan was clearly taken aback by his change in tone. He was about to apologize when Dan rushed to continue.

 

“I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect. See I’m a linguist, so I’m always interested in the way people talk. And I’ve never really gotten the chance to speak to anyone from up north so I was a little excited.” Dan scratched the back of his head sheepishly, a blush rising in his cheeks, which Phil shouldn’t find as endearing as he did. “Anyhow. What brings a northern man such as yourself down to London? Surely not the people.” Phil relaxed at the joke, finding it perhaps too easy to talk to someone he met about ten minutes ago.

 

“I see,” Dan seemed deep in thought after having heard of Phil’s situation. By now they were sitting by the slowly dying trash fire, the others having left to find places to sleep the night. Phil shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to reply.

 

“I’m sorry you’ve had such rubbish luck with people. Although I do still plan to give you those sixty pounds. Perhaps you could find a shop?” Dan suggested, almost half-heartedly, like he had another idea he wasn’t sharing. Phil shook his head.

 

“T money don’t matter, i’s tat people can’ bloody understan me when I talk t ‘em.”

 

Dan nodded. “Yes I can see that being an issue.” Phil sighed, feeling suddenly very tired. As fun as it was talking to Dan, thinking about how hopeless his life was at the moment tended to tire him out. Plus it was almost midnight.

 

“You know…” Dan seemed tentative, almost nervous. Phil tried to give him an encouraging look. “I am a language teacher. I could teach you how to talk like a damn prince if I wanted to. You could live in my house. I have a guest room. And I could study your northern dialect while I teach you. For a decent price of course.”

 

Dan was talking a mile a minute now, clearly excited by this prospect now that he got going. Phil was more skeptical though.

 

“Um, in case ya fergot I’ve no money t’ spare. I c’n barely afford t’ postage it’ll take t’ send tis money back t’ me mum, much less lessons frm one o’t mos renowned linguis’s in England.” Phil was sad to decline. He and Dan got on well. But he simply couldn’t afford it. But Dan shook his head and plowed on.

 

“No I think you’re misunderstanding Philip. For one, I’m not the one of the most renowned linguists in England. I’m one of the most renowned linguists in the _world_. Secondly, I don’t expect you to pay me. _I’m_ the one who would be paying _you.”_

Phil couldn’t breath for a moment. Was this man, this smart rich man, really offering to pay Phil to teach him how to talk? What on earth was Dan going to get out of this deal? As though reading his mind, Dan smiled. “As I mentioned before, I’ve never had the pleasure of studying the northern dialect nearly as much as I would have liked. If anything this would benefit me more than it would benefit you.”

 

Phil was very skeptical of this fact, but he chose not to argue. It was a tempting offer. Very tempting. But was Phil really going to go and live with some strange man he had known for less than half a day?

 

“I know this may not be an easy decision. I don’t want to pressure you into something you don’t want to do, especially not on such short notice.” Dan stood up, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a wallet. “I’ll tell you what. Here’s my card. It has my address on it. If you do want to take me up on my offer then my door is always open. But if not, then there’s absolutely no pressure, you can just come visit for dinner sometime.”

 

Dan handed Phil a small white business card, along with three twenty-pound notes. Phil almost protested, not wanting Dan to leave so abruptly. But he stopped himself. It was late, and Dan really must be expected home. For all Phil knew he had children to tuck into bed.

 

“I’ll tink abou’t,” Phil said, stuffing the money and card into his pocket. “Tank you Dan. Fer…” Phil gestured vaguely, failing to articulate his thoughts properly. Dan smiled, popping his collar up against the night chill.

 

“It was my pleasure really. I’ll see you around Mr. Phil.” And with that, Dan went on his way, leaving Phil with a near dead fire and a lot to think about.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan gets some houseguests and continues to be an awkward gay disaster (self projection? In my fanfic?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me long enough, goddamn. I wrote this instead of my english homework.

Dan barely made it home before one am. The house was quiet and unlit, and he made his way up the staircase by memory alone. He had told the maids not to wait up for him, not that he expected them to at this hour anyways. They were expecting a guest tomorrow, a Colonel Liguori had asked to meet with him. And Dan, being a very generous individual and also possibly a bit of a fan, had agreed to let him stay for a few days. 

So maybe this wasn’t the best time to invite a homeless man into his house. But quite honestly Dan wasn’t thinking straight when he offered Phil lessons. There was just something about him that made Dan want to help. 

It benefits Dan as well, he reminds himself. He’ll get to study a new dialect, one he hadn’t had the chance to explore before. And, if he were being entirely honest, teaching Phil a more proper form of English would be a bit of an ego boost. For all that Phil was funny and endearing and good company he was also quintessentially northern. His accent was a disaster, and it was no wonder he hadn’t been able to get a proper job when no one could bloody understand him. 

There was no guarantee that Phil would even show up. He had seemed uncertain when Dan had offered and he figured that some level of skepticism was probably healthy when strange men asked you to come to their house. 

Dan yawned as he shrugged off his coat and stumbled his way further into his house. The exhaustion was getting the better of him now that he no longer had someone to talk to, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. He was planning on writing down some observations in his journal about Phil’s accent while it was still fresh in his mind, though he figured that could wait for the morning. 

Besides, he thought as he collapsed into his bed, even if Phil decided not to take him up on his offer of lessons, there was no harm in going to see the man every once in a while. Talk to him and maybe buy a from him flower. Or buy a flower for him. Buy a flower from him for him. Dan let his thoughts drift by idly as he gave into the heaviness of his eyelids and the pull of sleep. 

***

The next morning Dan woke up close to midday. His breakfast was slightly cold by then but he didn’t complain for fear of evoking Maria’s wrath. Maria was his head maid and while he was for all intents and purposes her boss, it often felt like it was the other way around. Dan probably should have expected it from a woman with five children, but Maria was very good at not putting up with Dan’s shit. More often than not Maria had to forcibly eject him from the house, due to his tendency to sit inside either to read or simply to wallow. Dan didn’t know what he would do without her. 

Dan spent what was left of the morning puttering around his library; trying to find whatever materials he had on northern English dialects. He’d have to build that particular collection, he realized, carrying his meager findings to one of his many plush chairs. Maybe he could write some volumes himself, provided Philip actually took him up on his offer. 

Speaking of offers, Dan glanced at the ornate clock; it was getting on time for the Colonel to show up. Putting the book he had been flipping through on the table with the others, Dan stood, stretching a little. He had to make himself all presentable or whatever for his guest. 

The maids were putting together the second guest bedroom when Dan passed them on his way to his room. They had readied the room for Liguori while Dan had been out last night but this one was for Phil. Provided he actually showed up. There had been some raised eyebrows when Dan had told them that he might be expecting a random homeless man at the same time as the respected colonel. Though it had been taken mainly in stride (Maria said that she had always expected him to start collecting strays. She just thought they would be dogs rather than people.)

Most people wore shoes inside right? It’d been a while since Dan had guests over but usually people wore like house shoes or something right? Dan didn’t own house shoes because his floors were always clean anyways and it was more comfortable to just walk around in socks but internationally renowned linguists were supposed to have stuff like house shoes right? 

Or were internationally renowned linguists not supposed to care? Should he have chosen a more casual outfit? Or maybe the Colonel expected him to be in something even more fancy. Dan didn’t own anything fancier than this except for party outfits and he didn’t think that’d be appropriate. This is why Dan didn’t have guests over very often.

Dan was just lacing up his second loafer when the doorbell rang. He tried desperately to calm his breathing as he made his way to the main staircase, straightening his sleeve cuffs despite them not being askew. 

One of his maids- Eliza, if he remembered correctly- answered the door just as he reached the first landing. The man standing at the threshold was bundled up in a heavy blue traveling coat, collar pushed up against the wind. His hair was longer than what Dan had anticipated from a colonel, and it was windswept and tangled in front of his green eyes. He wasn’t hard on the eyes in any case, and Dan bit the inside of his cheek, keeping himself in check. 

Hardly a religious man, Dan had long ago accepted his apparent attraction to men. It didn’t bother him any, not like it used to at least. But one could never be too cautious with these things, particularly around strangers. 

“Colonel Liguori I assume?” Dan asked, descending the final set of stares.

“You assume correctly. Professor Howell?” the colonel nodded his thanks at Eliza as she took his coat, revealing the simple shirt and trousers underneath. Dan suddenly felt overdressed, but if the colonel was uncomfortable he didn’t show it. 

“I trust your trip was pleasant?” Dan asks, leading Liguori into the sitting room. 

“Not unpleasant per se. Just long,” he chuckled at himself and Dan relaxed a little. The colonel was far more easy-going than he had expected.

 

The two of them made friendly conversation as they were brought tea and coffee. Dan had been sure to stock up on coffee, despite being more of a chamomile man himself. He poured a generous amount of cream and sugar into his cup, while the colonel looked on amused, sipping his barely sweetened coffee. 

They were in the midst of talking about German dialects when there was a nock on the door. PJ raised an eyebrow as Dan shot to his feet. There was only one person Dan was even remotely expecting and he didn’t want Phil’s first impression to be a maid answering the door for him. 

Unfortunately, Maria was a fast walker, and Dan was only halfway out of his seat before he heard her call out “Daniel, your male prostitute is here!” Dan heard a choking sound behind him as PJ let out a startled laugh through his sip of coffee. Tragically he couldn’t relish in the moment as it was at his expense. 

He rushed to the door, finding Phil standing awkwardly in the entryway. “Hi. I don’t expect you to have sex with me,” Dan stuttered out, flushed and fidgety. Phil cracked a smile, and Dan couldn’t help but smile back. 

“T’as good. Y’aven even bought me dinner yet,” Dan tried to take that in stride, reminding himself that Phil had no way of knowing about his sexuality. This was just friendly banter and Dan could do that. 

“Well now that we’ve established that my intentions are only of the purest virtue, would you like to come in? Feel free to leave your shoes at the door.” Dan notices Phil glance at the shined loafers Dan was still wearing, and he suddenly feels self-conscious. He considered taking of his own shoes, but he figured that might make the situation even more uncomfortable. 

Dan led a barefoot Phil into the sitting room, where PJ had abandoned his now empty cup of coffee to inspect Dan’s various trinkets and knickknacks. He glanced up as the two men entered, raising an eyebrow as Phil shifted uncomfortably behind Dan.

“Sorry, I din’ know ya had company. It’s prolly best if I jus go.” 

“Nonsense! Don’t let me scare you off. You can call me PJ. And what might your name be?”

“Nice ta meet ya PJ. Name’s Phil! You a friend o’ Dan’s ten? Or is e teachin ya’s well. You don’ sound like ya need no help. You’re very posh.” 

“Actually PJ doesn’t have a natural London accent, although it isn’t noticeable at first” Dan piped in, “He’s really close but you can tell from the way he enunciates his “a”s. He’s probably from a small town a little south of London. But then started loosing his accent after joining the army. Which would of course explain… um you know what? Nevermind” Dan cut himself off before he could delve any deeper into his rant. 

He glanced nervously at Phil, hoping that he didn’t think Dan was trying to be a dick. Luckily, Phil just smiled a little bit, “Wow, tha’s impressive mate. You some kinda psychic or sommat?” Dan forced out a little chuckle, trying to play off his sudden awkwardness.

“Hardly. Linguistics is my whole life. I’ve dedicated years to studying it, especially English dialects. I can pinpoint nearly the exact location of a person’s birth after just a few words.” Dan didn’t want to sound braggadocios, though he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to impress the two men standing in his living room. Not that he should have anything to prove to Phil, but Dan had a long history of craving validation from strangers, even homeless northern ones. 

“You mentioned Daniel teaching you something?” PJ asked, and Dan was glad that at least someone here seemed to have his head straight (lol). 

Phil glanced at Dan, seemingly unsure of how to explain it. Dan smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring before taking it as his queue to explain. 

“Philip here is from a little town up north. He and I made a deal that I would teach him how to speak with a proper accent provided he stick around and let me study his natural dialect. I hope him sticking around won’t be too much of a hassle?” Dan didn’t really know what he would do if PJ was unhappy with the arrangement. On the one hand he had been looking forward to his visit for months, but on the other hand Dan was somehow even less inclined to turn Phil away than he was to bother PJ.

Luckily, the colonel quickly brushed aside Dan’s concerns. “No of course not! The more the merrier I say. It was a pleasure meeting the both of you, but I’d best get settled in. Shall we reconvene for supper?” 

Dan agreed readily and PJ slipped quietly out of the library, leaving Dan and Phil to their slightly uncomfortable silence. 

“Um, would you like some tea? Or coffee?” Dan asked, mainly to break the silence. Phil brightened at the suggestion of a warm beverage and Dan couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“Coffee souns great!” Dan nodded before turning to Eliza, who was cleaning up Dan’s own empty cup. 

“Eliza love, would you mind getting Phil a cup of coffee?” Eliza nodded before turning to Phil.

“Cream or sugar?” her voice maintained a bit of a cockney lilt, softer from spending time around Dan though still prominent enough that it seemed to put Phil more at ease. 

“Jus black is fine tank ya” Dan mocked gagging a little, making Phil roll his eyes as Eliza made her way back to the kitchen. “An I’m assumin you’s the kinda person who drowns is coffee wit ungodly amounts o cream an’ sugar?” Phil teased, as Dan gestured for the two of them to sit.

“Joke’s on you, I don’t even drink coffee.” Dan leaned back in his chair as Phil took the one PJ had left vacant. 

“Sorry mate, I don’ think I can stay ere wif someone who don’ drink coffee. I’s jus not natural.” Phil smirked at him and Dan had to mentally slap himself because random northern men weren’t allowed to be this attractive. 

“Well if you think you can get over it, I do already have a room prepared for you. It’s right next to the colonels so you two can make fun of my drink preferences whenever you want.” Dan really hoped that Phil was in fact planning on taking Dan up on his offer, otherwise he had just admitted he’d presumed Phil would want to stay with him, which Phil could perceive as arrogant and Dan really should stop talking sometimes. 

Luckily for Dan’s fragile self-esteem, Phil seemed unbothered by it, and simply hummed in acknowledgement. “Well I guess I can put up wif it. Ya are payin’ me after all.”

Dan tried not to let his relief show, instead opting for teasing. “You know, that sounds like something a male prostitute would say.” Phil let out an indignant squeak and Dan couldn’t help but let out a barking laugh at the noise. He was definitely looking forward to having Phil around a while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up somewhere between 2 weeks or five months.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked my writing(?) you can find me on tumblr @the-homosensual-agenda


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